


Fallen, Not Forgotten

by xspike4evax



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspike4evax/pseuds/xspike4evax
Summary: Hermione attempts to comfort George after Fred's death





	Fallen, Not Forgotten

Hermione Granger stared up at the ceiling as she waited for sleep to come and claim her. Her boyfriend, Ron Weasley, lay fast asleep beside her, his red hair a stark contrast to the white pillow. He was snoring quietly, although Hermione knew it wasn’t the gentle rumbling sound which kept her awake, nor was it the summer heat which suffocated the tiny bedroom; the open window doing little by way of ventilation. 

Straining her ears in the darkness Hermione could just pick out the sound of movement on the rickety old staircase. She sighed softly, it was the same every night, the sound of feet padding across the landing, making their quiet way down the creaking stairs to be lost in the sea of rooms below. Hermione knew who the feet belonged to, they belonged to George Weasley. 

It had been just after the final battle, when life was beginning to show some semblance of normality again when Hermione had first heard George’s feet. Not knowing what was happening, she had grabbed her wand and crept down into the house to discover the source of the noise. 

Hermione’s cheeks stained pink with awkward embarrassment when she recalled what she had seen. It had been a private moment, one for George and his memories alone, something she had no part in. But, to see George Weasley crying so despondently had wrenched at Hermione’s heart. She hadn’t expected to see it, believing for one ridiculously suspicious minute he was skulking around to play some sort of prank. 

It was painful to acknowledge that perhaps George would not be playing pranks again, that he was now only half a person, his other half gone forever; only to be remembered and never seen again. Of course, Hermione knew Fred and George Weasley although twins, were two separate people. Although, when she looked at George these days, it didn’t ring true. He looked lost, dilapidated, as if something was missing. He and Fred had been closer than anyone she knew, and of course, Hermione knew George had taken Fred’s death hard. 

Ron grunted beside her, wiggling about a little and muttering Harry’s name as his legs kicked out. She winced as his foot collided with her shin and fought the urge to dig her elbow into his ribs. Ron was prone to having disturbing dreams every now and again, where Harry died and it was his fault. He never woke up though, just mumbled and kicked a lot, before settling back down after a few minutes. 

Blowing air through pursed lips, Hermione flung the bedclothes back and climbed out of bed, her feet sliding comfortably into the furry slippers she kept right beside the bed to protect her feet from the cold wooden floor. She didn’t think leaving the bed in the middle of the night would disturb Ron, he always slept like a log. 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised and a small amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips as Ron immediately flung himself across the bed and groaned quietly. “No, I don’t think you’ll miss me at all will you, Ron?” 

Pulling her dressing gown over her shoulders, not wishing to be caught moving around the house in her nightdress by Arthur Weasley, Hermione left the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her. 

Tip toeing down the dark hallway, she made her way down stairs, intent on getting a cold drink and slipping straight back to bed. She didn’t want to intrude upon George and his thoughts, he seemed to be coping fairly well all things considered, and perhaps it was only at night he felt he could really let himself go and grieve properly. This was not for her to interfere with. 

Pushing open the door to the kitchen Hermione gasped loudly, she had thought she'd heard him go outside. “Merlin, you startled me, George.” 

George just looked at her with haunted brown eyes, he nodded slowly before lowering his head to stare down into the goblet he was holding. 

“I just came to get a drink,” Hermione continued, averting her eyes from the pale miserable face in front of her and rummaging around in the cupboards. “My throat feels like sandpaper. Ron’s flat out up there, spread all over the bed,” she chuckled nervously. 

Pouring a glass of water, Hermione gulped at it, spluttering madly as it went down the wrong way. “I didn’t know you were in here, George, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything. I’ll just be a minute and then I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Can’t wait to get away from me?” George questioned hoarsely. 

“No, no of course not. I just thought you would like to be alone. If you want some company I’ll sit with you.” 

“I’ve always got company, Hermione, haven’t you noticed? There’s always someone around, as if I’ve got a sticking charm on my clothes. There’s always someone next to me, but it’s not the same as if it were Fred,” George spoke quietly, calmly, his long fingers making idle circles on the surface of the table. 

“Everyone’s worried about you, George, they want to help, want to be there for you. Except, well, we aren’t sure how,” Hermione admitted, taking a seat next to George. 

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his long red hair. “There’s always someone watching me, Hermione, what do they think I’m going to do?” 

“I don’t think anyone thinks you’ll do anything stupid or rash, George. We just want to make sure you’re ok.” 

“Ok? I don’t think I’ll ever be ok again,” George replied, lifting a goblet to his lips and swallowing a mouthful of burning amber liquid. 

Hermione’s nose wrinkled as the strong scent of fire whisky hit her nostrils. “Well that’s certainly not going to help you.” 

“It’s only a little drink.” 

“How many little drinks do you have each night? I know you’ve been coming down stairs since the funeral, I’ve heard you,” Hermione informed him, pulling her bushy brown hair back over her shoulders. 

“Keeping an eye on me in a different way are you?” 

“No, I’ve just been finding it difficult to sleep that’s all. Ron has no such trouble,” she added, smiling weakly. 

“Ron never has had trouble sleeping,” George said with a lop sided grin. “Sleeps everywhere. I remember once when we were on holiday and dad wanted to go on a trip the muggle way, on this huge bus full of people. It was really hot and we had to travel quite a distance and Ron fell asleep. We weren’t allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts at the time, so we drew on his face with a magic marker.” 

“A muggle have magic marker?” 

“No, this is an actual magic marker, the ink wouldn’t come off for twenty four hours and Ron had to walk around with a beard and glasses and extra eyebrows,” George sniggered. “He was very careful where he fell asleep after that.” 

Hermione laughed softly. “Poor Ron, you two played some dreadful pranks on him.” 

“That’s what baby brother’s are for, to experiment upon,” George told her firmly. He frowned, his eyebrows drawing together and a purse forming on his lips. “That’s the first time I’ve spoken about Fred since he died.” 

Hermione’s eye widened in shock, her mouth popping open into an O. “How is that possible?” 

George closed his eyes briefly, massaging the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He swallowed the painful lump in his throat and let out a shaky breath before replying bitterly, “Because no-one talks about him.” 

Reaching out Hermione curled her hand around George’s wrist. “There’s a lot to say about someone like Fred, he lived such a full life. Even though he died before his time, he’s left us with lots of memories and funny stories to tell, it’s just that no-one knows what to say.” 

She was one of those people. Hermione was terrified of mentioning Fred’s name to George in case it broke him. She couldn’t bear seeing George crumbling right before her eyes. Although he wasn’t himself lately, Hermione felt George would bounce back in his own time. 

Resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands George blinked rapidly to keep his burning tears at bay. He thought about Fred all the time, every inch of The Burrow and the shop in Diagon Alley reminded him of Fred. Fred was his twin, his other half, his partner in crime. Without Fred beside him George was lost, he felt as though he were stuck in limbo with no way out. 

“Oh, oh, George, please. Please don’t cry,” Hermione begged, biting her bottom lip distractedly, at the harsh, choking sounds which came from George echoed around the room. 

“It’s not the same, Hermione. Nothing’s the same now that Fred is gone. Nothing will be right again.” 

“Oh it will,” Hermione assured him. “One day you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt so much, there will be a day in the future when you’ll start looking forward again. I promise there will be.” 

His eyes were stinging, and his muscles felt slack from lack of sleep. George had never felt weak before, but he felt weak now. Too weak to stop the tears from flowing, too weak to open the shop on his own and too weak to do anything at all on his own; it wasn’t the same without Fred. 

“He’s always been there, Hermione, ever since the day we were born it was just the two of us. We did everything together, we pulled pranks together, we did our punishments together, we were right together and we were wrong together. Percy was jealous of us when we were younger, he wanted someone like I had Fred and Fred had me.” 

“You still have Fred,” Hermione said, leaning over to grasp at George’s shoulders. “Don’t you see that, George? Fred is still alive in you, we will always remember him and talk about him, we’ll tell our children about him, and their children after that, and theirs after that. Fred will never be forgotten, George, not ever. So long as we remember him Fred can still live on in spirit.” 

Hermione was desperate to make those awful, desolate sobs stop. What was there to say to make George feel better? She did not possess the words to take away his pain, and she doubted there was anyone who did. Instead of speaking, Hermione moved to sit right next to him and wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders. 

Making gentle soothing sounds, Hermione rocked him backwards and forwards, her cheek resting on the side of his head. Her tears trickled their own course down her cheeks and Hermione sniffed. “I miss him too.” 

It was so strange seeing George without Fred. Sometimes she had the odd moment when Hermione believed she was dreaming or she was waiting for Fred to walk through the door, but of course, that never happened. Life seemed quieter without Fred, just that little bit duller, as though everything had been muted somehow. 

“If it will make things easier for you then we’ll all start talking about him. We just didn’t want to upset you any more than you were already,” Hermione explained through her tears. 

George lifted his head, he was so close that Hermione could smell the faint hint of fire whisky on his breath. “Fred knew what I was thinking before I said it. We thought the same, we felt the same things, there won’t be anyone in my life again like Fred.” 

“No,” Hermione breathed, “But there will be someone, George. In time Fred would have taken second place to your wife and children and you to his, that’s just the way life works. Don’t feel guilty when you meet someone you want to let into your life, George. Fred wouldn’t want you to.” 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” George admitted, sniffing a little. “Thank you, Hermione.” 

She gave him a watery smile, framing his face with her small hands, Hermione wiped his tears away gently. “You have to be strong, George, you’re living two lives now. One for yourself and one for Fred as well, just don’t let Fred take you over completely. He’d want you to do whatever it is that makes you happy.” 

George sighed heavily, resting his forehead against hers. “I know that, it’s just that life without Fred is a scary thought,” 

“Yes it is,” Hermione agreed. “We all have to face things we don’t want to, and generally we all get through them. You will too. You're strong, George, stronger than you think you are even without Fred. You’ve got us, we’re your family and we love you very much. We’re here for you, George, whenever you need us; we’re here.” 

“It’s hard to talk about Fred when no-one talks about him at all. I don’t want to bring him up to mum and dad, I don’t want to upset them.” 

“We all thought we were doing you the favour by not talking about Fred,” she told him again, smoothing his hair back from his face. “The last thing anyone wanted was to bring up unhappy memories for you.” 

“I don’t remember anything unhappy about Fred,” George whispered, tears still clogging his throat. 

“That’s good.” Hermione considered for a few moments, she couldn’t think of a time when Fred was unhappy either; annoyed on occasions, yes, but never unhappy. “He was a good person, and we’ll all remember him with love.” 

“It’s really nice of you to say that, Hermione. I know our jokes annoyed you sometimes.” 

“No, you didn’t annoy me. I just thought that sometimes you were inappropriate,” she said quietly. “I love you both very much, and I’ll miss Fred dreadfully.” 

Lifting her eyes, Hermione was startled to find them meshing with the sorrowful brown eyes of George. Watery and puffy they stared into her own and Hermione was incapable of looking away. She had seen a side to George she had never really considered existed before and her heart went out to him in his suffering. 

“You’re not alone, George, please don’t ever think that you are,” Hermione whispered, leaning forward a few inches she kissed him. 

Her lips touched to George’s and her eyes closed. Hermione felt better instantly, as if all the sadness and pain of their conversation had suddenly evaporated. His lips were warm and Hermione could taste the salt of his tears and feel the quiver of his bottom lip. 

Realisation crashed through her entire system like a rocket, she was kissing George, for Merlin’s sake! Jerking back her eyes wide, her hand flying to her mouth Hermione shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, George. I’m really sorry.” 

Flustered and embarrassed, Hermione jumped up, fumbling with the chair as she tried to push it back under the table. She was mortified, she was his brother’s girl friend, someone he had leant upon for comfort and understanding and she had ended up kissing him! And what was even worse, was that George hadn’t attempted to kiss her back; he was obviously horrified by her actions and insensitivity. 

“Calm down, Hermione.” George grasped her wrist to stop her leaving. “Don’t get all worked up, it was just a kiss.” 

Covering her face with her hand Hermione groaned. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean to do that.” 

“I know that. There was nothing in it, Hermione, you were just being nice, being a friend that’s all,” George soothed easily, squeezing her hand. “You’re a good friend, Hermione, both Harry and Ron are very lucky to have you.” 

“I’m your friend too, George,” she told him. “I’d like to help you in any way I can.” 

“Thanks, Hermione, I appreciate you talking to me tonight.” 

Smiling again, all awkwardness now gone from her, Hermione lent over and kissed George on the forehead. “Fred will always be remembered as one of the men who gave up his life for the freedom of the wizarding world. He’s fallen, not forgotten.” 

George nodded. “Thanks, Hermione. Good night.” 

“Good night, George.” Patting his shoulder she turned and left the kitchen, wiping at her stiff cheeks with the back of her hand. 

Padding back up the stairs to Ron’s room, Hermione frowned and gave Ron a shove as she climbed back into bed. Rolling onto her side she slid an arm around the warm form of her boyfriend and snuggled into his back, pressing a light kiss to his neck. 

“I love you, Ron.” 

If anything had happened to Ron or Harry during the war Hermione knew she would be as lost as George was now. She would need all the help and love she could get to move past the pain; and she knew George needed the same thing. 

Starting first thing in the morning Hermione would do what she could to help George and make sure Fred was remembered in whatever way his other half deemed fit. 

A large yawn escaped her and Hermione felt suddenly exhausted. Closing her eyes and sighing softly, Hermione whispered, “I hope you’re happy wherever you are. Good night, Fred.”


End file.
